WiR 2: On the Rooftop
(A/Ns: This is a unique one-shot for me; it's first-person narration, and I haven't really written many stories like that before. (I have a few I'm working on; haven't published them yet. I hope it starts a trend for me to keep writing in this style, though! lol I love first-person narration stories :))
This is just a long one-shot surrounding how Ralph feels 'present day' after he and Vanellope said goodbye so she could live in Slaughter Race...and how he views his favorite spot now that she's gone. Hope all enjoy!!)
I've always loved sitting at the rooftop of the Nicelander's apartment building.
Super weird, I know.
More specifically, I just love plopping myself down on the edge of the flat roof, the side that faces the Fix-It Felix Jr gaming screen- exposing our simple, small 8-bit world into the large, complex world outside into the physical arcade.
Just hanging my fat legs over the side, allowing them to swing a bit as I get worriedly and wildly lost in the maze of my own thoughts... Sweet Mother Hubbard, now that's the life right there, I gotta say.
I can't really explain what it is about bein' up there that's so nice or that makes me love it so much, though. Maybe it's habit, something I've done since we were plugged in. Or maybe because I feel like I'm invincible while perched on the edge, like I'm flying high above my problems far below (like that stupid mud puddle- or that certain mustached mayor who I'm always so tempted to drop just one little brick on).
Or maybe it's great up there 'cause it's usually at the end of the day when I choose to climb up on the rooftop, when all is calm and quiet and...good. I get a weird peace up on the roof, a weird feeling of total contentment, ya know? A strange level of control, I guess...
'Cause when I'm on the rooftop at that point, I get to pick just how long I'm staying up there for. I don't have to worry about being chucked over the side and taking an impromptu bath... and I'm not considered to be some stupid bad guy that needs defeating anymore, either.
Up there at the end of the day, I'm not Wreck-It Ralph- just Ralph. Plain 'ole, simple Ralph. Which is a pretty nice change of pace, I gotta say.
Oh, and that rooftop is arguably the best spot in the entire world to build pigloos, eat brunt pies, and play 'I Spy'. Just sayin'.
I guess that's yet another reason why I can say I love bein' on the roof- because it's an awesome place to look out into the arcade. In fact, the top of the Nicelanders building is the only real place in the whole arcade a person can peer out and see the perfect variety of games Mr.Litwak has. I mean, you can pretty much see them all- Hero's Duty, Frogger, Street Fighters, Whack-A-Mole, etc, etc. You name it, chances are I can see it from the apartment's rooftop.
And right in the middle of the entire arcade, there is the one game that used to hold the center of my small world: the Sugar Rush game cabinet itself...
Is that what is called coincidence? Some sort of that cheesy destiny junk, maybe? Straight-up irony? Call it as you see it, I guess.
What's funny about it, though, is that you just can't miss or ignore the Sugar Rush game cabinet- like, at all. I mean, it's huge, for one thing. Stupid huge. It's the biggest cabinet in the whole arcade, I bet; it takes up a lot of space in the fairly small room. And the stinking lights on that thing- they alone attract so much attention, for Sega's sake. Oh, and the whole game is so pink... er, salmon... and bright and shiny it can hurt your eyes and brain after a while; I bet it could even make you blind if you stare at it too long.
For as long as I can remember it being in the arcade, Sugar Rush has always just screamed sugar and sweetness and...well, little-girlish vibes to me...
...So I guess that kid didn't really ever fit that game...Heh, the little misfit- never really belonged in the very game she was designed to live in, did she?...
Anywho, for 30 odd years, I'd climb up to the Nicelander's building rooftop -by my lonesome self, of course- and just sit still on the edge of the roof facing the outside world. At that point, I could just finally breathe and 'de-stress', if you can even call it that; just relax and take in the somehow loud sounds of silence. But I'd mostly just be happy the long cruel day of work was over... before realizing that soon I'd have to start yet another long cruel one as well.
Simply put, that rooftop -as stupid as it may sound- was my safe place for so long, my retreat the horrible life I had...and I used to associate it as such. That simple roof used to be a perfect place to reflect on stuff- which was just mostly my sad life and it's even worse outlook. Up there, I often found myself wishing for something more, for something better to head my way...
And instead of getting that wish, I'd just end up emptily stare out in the arcade, day after day, week after week, year after year. I tried to distract myself by focusing on the beautiful sunset seeping in through arcade's front doors or by imagining that I was on top of the world- but I'd always just end up feeling empty inside. (And I must say- 'I Spy' gets pretty boring after years on end of playing it by yourself.)
Long story short, for 30 years, all I ever focused on when I sat on the edge of the top of the apartment building was on my situation, my own troubles in life- which, looking back, I can't really blame myself for.
I mean, I really had no one else in my life to take care of, to worry about. To even really think about other than myself, ya know?
For way too many years, I just sat up there on the Nicelander's rooftop with the lovely companions of just me, myself, and I. All of 'us' being bored by each other's company. Being so deeply alone, feared... rejected. Hated. Hurt. Judged forever as a some worthless, stupid bad guy who wrecks the building...
Up until that kid came along.
Everything -and when I say everything, I literally mean everything- about my life changed because of that fart-breath squirt.
Well, ok... maybe not everything. My job and duty (heh...doodie) are still the same- boring, bad guyish as they've always been. I still get tossed off the rooftop I love, still get thrown into the mud, still the bad guy that all the arcade kids love to hate- that'll never change, I guess. And I bet some of the other characters in the arcade -maybe even members of my own game- still view me the same, too. And they will never change their hateful, judgemental opinions of me...
But in all honesty, all of that is just fine with me.
All 'cause I had that kid, mind you. As long as I had her, people could hate, judge, reject me; I really could care less. She liked me (no, even loved me), so what else in my life mattered? I saved her, she saved me- we were together as best friends, so what else could I complain about?
She was enough for me to forgot about all those years of being alone. Enough to ignore what others thought about me, how they treated me...
Being her best friend was enough for me...
I mean, for 6 great years, that kid and I were always together- and nothing else mattered to me but her. We were pretty much nearly inseparable; where you saw one of us, the other was most likely not far behind.
We're like socks and shoes, pen and paper, chinese food and chocolate pudding- one isn't nearly as good without the other.
Sure, they can all exist without the other, I've found- but it still just isn't quite the same in the other's absence, ya know?
In comparison, I'm just some old, smelly sock while Vanellope is a Niki (or whatever that cool human brand of shoe is); I'm a piece of paper that for so long was blank and empty- until Vanellope filled it up with her colorful personality and friendship, permanently etched on me forever. I'm the Chinese food -sometimes good, sometimes eh- while she's (obviously) the amazing chocolate puddle that is always, always amazing and sweet...
I guess the fact I'm trying to say is that I'm simply not me (not the good me, anyway) without Vanellope. She's my better half, the best part of me...
A kid that was someone that I could've hung out with 24/7 and that STILL would've not been enough time to me. A child that I was like a big brother to one moment, a crazy-protective father the next...
A kid that could make me laugh or cry at any spare moment in time. A child that makes my heart and head ache and yet fill me with a fluffy fluff I've never known...
Heh, I guess I'll stop gushin' on Vanellope now. I could all day, just know- it's a bad habit of mine that others constantly call me out on.
I can't really help but brag on her, though- that's kinda what you do with your best friend, right? Talk about'em a lot, think about'em alot...worry about'em, ya know?
Besides, it took me 30 long, looong years to finally find her -my mini-me, really...But hey, I can confidently say that wait, as hard as it was, was well worth it. All that time was worth enduring through to find a best friend who actually cared about me- and who I care even more about in return.
I can safely say that I have really LIVED because of her, experienced life in ways I know I never would've had it not been for her.
She changed me for the better...
And I'd have to say- even being up on that rooftop changed because of her. Practically the second she got up there, actually.
When she left her game for the first time ever, she surprised me when she asked me to see my game first. I thought she'd beg me to take her to see Pac-man first, then Tapper's, and then Hero's Duty (although she did admit she wanted to see that game next, to see 'if it smells as gross as it sounds', heh)- but no, she wanted to see the game her 'very bestest friend and hero came from'. So after showing her around the boring main part of Fix-it Felix Jr (and talking the rooftop's awesomeness up), I finally took her up there.
Oh man, did she instantly loved it... just like I knew she would. She glitched around all happy and excited, it was hilarious- nearly would've glitched her little behind right off the edge had I not caught her time, heh. She also liked how that we could see the whole arcade from up there- and even laughed out that it was kinda weird we could see her game so well, heh...
When I admitted I hung out on the cherish rooftop after work a lot, like every day, she immediately agreed that it was a perfect, awesome spot for relaxing, 'way better' than her old home in Diet Cola Mountain...
And she begged to hang out there at least once every day. Seven days a week. With me by her side...as her new best friend...
And in that strange little moment, I knew the top of the Nicelander's building had suddenly changed. It wasn't a safe place to seek relief from my bad life anymore- instead, it was now a fun place to spend time with my new best friend.
And even now I admit I love the fact that the rooftop wasn't just my favorite spot anymore; it became hers, too...
Ours. The rooftop was just our spot to hang out- something no one else could take from us. It was our special place just to be ourselves. No judgment, no hate. No being bad guys or glitches. Just a perfect place for a smelly hobo and an extremely obnoxious kid.
That roof was our weird little nesting ground to relax and have fun in. Our retreat from stuff in our lives that we couldn't control, didn't even try to control anymore...
That very same day, I vowed to her I'd make sure we hung out there on the Nicelander's roof every day. Seven days a week if possible...together, since it was our spot now...
And I never make a promise I can't keep- especially not to Vanellope.
So, from that moment on, if you didn't find us in Tapper's or in any other game, you would most likely find me and Vanellope chillin' on that rooftop every evening, around the same time. Seven days a week- and always by each other's side.
Sure, some days we squabble and lightly argue on what we wanted to do up there...Well, not really argue about it, I guess- that's a strong word. We'd always figure it out, reach a compromise or come up with a whole new idea together.
Some days we'd only go up there for a few minutes, mostly just to briefly chat about our day...well, that and to figure out what game to explore before Vanellope exploded with energy, heh.
Some evenings, though, we seemed to need the calming rooftop more than others. Like on the days when work was long and boring for the both of us, or the days we were tired of being a wrecker or a princ- er, president... or on the days when we just didn't want to be around anyone else but each other...
On those kinds of days, we spent all night up there on the roof- the second the arcade would close, in fact. We'd spend all our time playing 'I Spy' or some other stupid game I taught Van how to play- then we'd start building forts and igloos to burrow in, and eat our pies, and tell stupid jokes...
Oh, and on those days, you could bet Vanellope had some long, wacked-out, made-up-on-the-fly story to tell me, heh. I loved those stories... Mostly because she made she sure they never an ending...
Vanellope always hated ending to a good story...
Anywho, there were other times when we didn't want to build forts or joke or tell never-ending stories. On those days when we'd both be too tired to do again else, Vanellope would tiredly crawl up onto my shoulder or into my lap and we'd just end up staring out into our beautiful arcade in silence- both calming and comforting to us for once.
But the best times we had up there (in my opinion) is when we were in our stupid, goofy moods. We'd just sit side-by-side on the edge of the rooftop... and just waited for the other person to talk. Neither of us ever knew what the other was going to say next- but that proved to be the fun of it. Half the time, a new Hero's Duty joke, a mocking statement about Sour Bill, or her scary-good impression of Gene was enough to make me cringe, smile, or nearly fall off the roof from laughing so hard. And when I'd tell her about the latest smooch fess I regrettably saw Felix and Calhoun have, the gossip I overheard at the Bad-Annon meeting, or I just randomly started tickling her, I'd get that fake, disgusted gag, that over-exaggerated gasp, that loud, raspy giggle from her that I love so much...
Oh, and on the nights when the overhead skies were clear, we'd lay on our backs on the roof and stare up at the 8-bit stars Fix-It Felix Jr has, betting a drink at Tapper's to see who could count the most stars before the other one gave up trying. Half the time we did that, Vanellope would end up falling asleep cuddled close to my side, and I'd end up havin' to carry her back to Sugar Rush, her draped over my shoulder or snuggled against my overalls the whole way home...
Gosh, I loved those kinds of small moments we had, so pure and stupid and fun. Those were the moments I felt like most bonded that kid and I- and the memories I wish I simply had more of...
But the thing I remember the most about spending time with her on the rooftop -and the thing I know Vanellope loved best- was the conversations we would have. Sweet Mother Hubbard, was each of those conversations random, heh.
Half the time, they never made sense; we'd just be loudly rambling on and bouncing one crazy idea after another off each other. In other, more serious times, we'd softly reminisce about how our lives were before we met each other...which were odd, far away, painful lives neither of us wished to revisit for too long.
But I found out that as much as those little talks would happen, the deeper, more serious conversations were the ones Vanellope would gravity to and liked to talk the most about on the rooftop. She's a surprisingly deep little thinker for her programmed age, which I think is because all those years being alone made her spend time thinking about the deeper things of life... and now she finally found someone to talk about that stuff with.
I mean, Vanellope's a pretty mature kid -mostly, heh. She'd often use huge words I'll never know the meaning of. You know, very...uh, 'philo-sloth-cial' words, or whatever it's called.
I've never been one too good with words myself, so half of the stuff she'd say would go way over my head. I'd just try to listen and understand what she meant, failing to do so a lot of the time; I'd end up zoning out, just happy she was by my side and to hear her raspy little voice...
But not really ever hearing her words, I guess...
What really got me, though, is when that child would have 'life observations' that I never once thought or asked about in all of my 36 years of gameplay; I mean, man, the things she'd come with.
When she'd ask or point out to me such existential questions, I'd manage to answer them semi-intelligently... but I always kinda hope she'd seek out Q*Bert or Clyde to ask one of them such a question; they could answer it way better than I ever could, ya know?
But nonetheless, she always asked me, always waited till we were together away from the rest of the world and on the rooftop to go to me with her newest life observations and questions and even problems. All because she really cared how her best friend felt about what she felt about.
And that always made me want to tell her the truth on how I feel about whatever she'd pondered out loud (that is, if I understood what she meant, heh). I never wanted to break her trust in me, so I'd honestly tell her what I thought about this or that, my personal answer to that question or this question- and most of the time she accepted that.
Because she knew I'd never lie to her, knew I'd never hide what I thought from her. I always laid it all out on the table, as she has always done with me...
I always told that kid the truth...
Which may be why the last conversation we ever had on the rooftop still kinda cuts me.
"If I'm not a racer, Ralph...what am I?"
In all honesty, I still kinda struggle to fully understand what she meant by that question.
I mean, the question itself was different, very different from anything she had ever asked me before, in fact. This question caused her to be so serious, so worried- more than I ever remember seeing her before.
And it was obvious as to why.
I mean, this wasn't just your basic, everyday 'life' kind of question, not just an observation she had made and was pointing out to me. No, this was a heavy, heavy question that involved Vanellope herself...
About who she was, what she was. Her very identity now that she was without her bright, shiny Sugar Rush game. Where her very place was in the big, wide world.
And by the way she looked at me then when she asked me that question, I knew she wanted -needed, even- the truth. The sincere, pure, blatant, honest-to-goodness truth...
From me, actually. Her best friend, her Stink Brain...Her hero who would never lie to her...
Right there in our safe spot. Our place of freedom and fun and comfort...right there on the edge of the Nicelander's apartment building.
So, of course, I answered her in the purest, sincerest, honest-to-goodness truth...
Telling Vanellope von Schweetz exactly what I thought. Exactly what she was, who she was in my opinion. What she would always be to me, in fact- something I knew...felt... believed deep down would never change, no matter what may come.
"Well...You're my best friend..."
Wasn't that obvious?
She may be a quick-tongued kid with enough sass to fill a football field...She may the most sarcastic, obnoxious little brat ever programmed...She may be the coolest shoe, the most colorful pen, the best chocolate pudding in the world...
And she may be a racer one moment but not the next...
But being my best friend- my only best friend forever- was something that would never change.
It was simple: Vanellope von Schweetz was my best friend. That's just what she was to me. That's sincerely and truthfully what and who she would always be to me.
Seven days a week- me by her side and her by mine. Rooftop or not.
But my best friend quickly -without hesitancy, actually- shut me down then, not agreeing with me this time...which was one of the rare times we didn't actually agree on something.
I guess, though, her next comment wasn't really even exactly disagreeing per se...it was more like...like...
Like purest, sincerest, honest-to-goodness rejection.
"That's not enough..."
"That's not enough..."
I admit- those words still messes with my mind at times...and not just because they were a few of the last words I'd ever hear from that kid up on our rooftop.
Those words were like a donkey kick to the teeth. Knife stab in the back and heart, really. I never knew three words could hurt so bad, ya know?
Because being her best friend was enough for me for 6 years- more than enough, actually. That kid was my everything, every day, every year; I could've never asked for anything more now that I had her. In fact, I'd readily say that being her best friend was my who I was, what I was.
I existed because of her and only because of her (insecure, clingy, and super self-destructive, I know), so I just assumed that's the way she felt about me...
That even if everything changed in a blink of an eye... even if she lost everything, it all was ok simply because she was my best friend...
But it wasn't.
Nothing was ok in her mind. Her game was gone, her kart was gone. Her life was gone because she had become a little homeless lady again...a kid that couldn't race again...
Who she was, what she was was gone.
And no amount of being my best friend could've fixed that or replaced that.
Sure, she could readily admit that I was her best friend; our friendship wasn't really the issue. But she didn't feel that my friendship with her who she was, what she was...
And looking back, I realized, as painful as it is to admit now... I should've never felt that way about her in our friendship, either.
And what's sad is that although she's just a kid who deeply cared about me, Vanellope was mature enough to make...er, what did Clyde call them again?...
Oh yeah, boundaries.
Friendship boundaries, to be exact- ones that protected her own self worth from getting too overly attached to me and only me. Protected her self-worth from only being around if I was around. Those boundaries protected what she was in her code- outside of me.
She knew she wasn't just a shoe needing a sock, or a pen needing a paper. She wasn't even pudding that needs some semi-decent chinese food to go along with it. She didn't define herself as just a kid I called my best friend; that simply wasn't what she was.
Not like being a racer, at least.
That's what she was- and still is to this day. That's what she'll always be, in fact. More than anything else -even more than being my best friend- that kid is simply a racer...
And she briefly thought she had lost that forever when Sugar Rush got unplugged.
When you think about it like that, can you really blame the kid for wanting to live in Slaughter Race? That death-trap of a game really confirmed to her that she was always going to be a racer...a forever, amazing racer...
And even though that game isn't exactly my cup of tea, I find that I'm sincerely happy for that little guttersnipe now. She found a lot more than a new game, after all. She found people she can speak deeply to and they get it. She found cars that excite her in her code, that fills her with a happiness and life I've never seen her with...
She found the game she truly belonged in. The game, the life that was enough for her...
And I'm unbelievably proud of her for finding that, all on her own- even if I have to do without her now.
Heh, if you had told me 6 years ago, even a few months ago, that I'd end up livin' without that kid -my kid- I would've called you wacked. Crazy. A few walnuts short of bein' a compete of bag of nuts.
But for 7 or so odd months -and counting- now, I haven't had her by my side. Seven days a week. On the rooftop or not.
And that's ok, actually.
Even though some things are different now, some things have stayed the exact same. 'Cause of who I am, what I am, I guess...
I still continue to climb up to the Nicelander's building rooftop...by myself, but not so alone, though... and just sit still on the edge of the roof facing the outside world, my mammoth legs hanging off the side. There, I can just finally breathe and relax and enjoy the sounds of silence- now not so loud and hard to hear. But I can mostly just be happy the great day was over... before looking forward to soon starting yet another awesome one.
Simply put, that rooftop -as cheesy as it may sound- is my break from the full, happy life I have now and forever onward...and I use it as such. It's still the perfect place to reflect- only this time, it's on my great life, my great memories, and how I couldn't wish for anything more, for anything better to head my way...
I don't stare emptily out in the arcade up there anymore, either. Instead, day after day, week after week, month after month now, I find that I'm not bored anymore. I still count stars, still play 'I Spy', still build pigloos...and maybe I am physically alone but not, er, mentally? In spirit, I guess?
'Cause I have actual friends now, outside of Vanellope, ya know? And even outside of Felix and Calhoun. Me and my pals from the book club meetings hang out in Tappers and stuff every so often; some even rave about the burnt pie I make.
One day I may even invite one of my friends to join me up on the roof...or maybe I'll just leave it. Leave it to just stay the spot that was for me and my best friend. Leave it our spot, with our memories, ya know?
Of course, even now that she is gone, it's still good to know I'll always have those great memories. To know I'm forever loved so much and really missed by my best friend...Her words, actually. But it's also awesome to know that the more I'm on the rooftop alone, the more I see that I'm finally a content, good 'ole sock, a good piece of full, happy, colorful paper... and that I'm pretty darn good chinese food all on my own.
I can see the very quality of good in myself. From myself. And nothing can replace or change that feeling.
But I admit: even now, my eyes always seem to be drawn to the Sugar Rush game cabinet from the rooftop- but this time I well know why. It's simply for the very reason of making me smile like a dope. Of remembering my forever best friend and of all the best 6 years of my life she gave me...
And I'll admit even more that some happy tears have been shed on the rooftop at remembering those times...which is just a good story that finally has a well-needed ending, I guess.
But, hey, what can I say? It's simply the sincere, pure, blatant, honest-to-goodness truth that I can't deny. That will always be who I am, what I am since the day my game was plugged in:
I'll always love sitting at the rooftop of the Nicelander's building.
Weird, I know.